


Meli

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Comfort, Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Female pronouns for Grell, Grelle is babey, Honey, Trans Female Character, sapphic sutcliff week, this might have been very loosely inspired by the honey scene in Fried Green Tomatoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 21:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20264950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: Grelle implores her mistress to comfort her with honey. How sweet the demon's love is!





	Meli

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "comfort" prompt for Sapphic Sutcliff Week.
> 
> The title refers to μέλι, the ancient Greek word for honey.

"Life is the flower for which love is the honey." --Victor Hugo

It was bright and cheerful in the demon’s cottage. Hannah’s lavender hair was plaited in a neat braid, and she smiled to herself as she laid out the ingredients for a pie. Meanwhile, Grelle reclined in a chair at the kitchen table, legs daintily crossed at the ankle as she peeled apples destined for said pie. Her lengthy bangs were held away from her face with the aid of a charming bow that perfectly complemented her long-sleeved red top. A lady’s hair should never be messy!

Of course, as a fiend, Hannah could derive neither sustenance nor pleasure from an apple pie—the darkness and suffering of human souls suited her palate far better. However, Grelle had a bit of a sweet tooth, and Hannah loved to make her smile. Having someone go out of their way to bestow everyday kindnesses on her was still somewhat alien to the reaper, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Grelle glanced up from her apple to admire her lovely companion. Really, Hannah bore a closer resemblance to a beneficent goddess of the hearth than the terrifying demonic matriarch she was in actuality. And damn, was she gorgeous…

So gorgeous, in fact, that Grelle temporarily forgot she was holding a knife in one hand, though she received a forcible reminder when that knife sliced deeply into her left thumb.

“Oh, shit!” she hissed, dropping both fruit and knife with a clatter as poppy-red blood trickled from the cut. Hannah raced to her side, anxiously examining her hand. “You’ve injured yourself, little one!” she exclaimed in worry. For a moment, Grelle was prepared to dismiss her concerns—it hurt now, but she’d endured far worse wounds out in the field—when she realized that this was a golden opportunity. Widening her eyes dramatically, she transformed her expression into one evoking deepest pathos. “_Darling_,” she whispered in apparent agony. “I’m _terribly_ sorry for being so clumsy, but would you be able to patch me up? It _does _hurt something dreadful…”

“Of course, dear heart,” Hannah reassured her, patting her hand. As she proceeded to stitch up and bandage Grelle’s thumb, it was all the reaper could do not to squeal happily. The demon was going to all this trouble for _her_! She was petting and comforting _her_! Grelle Sutcliff, who so many at the dispatch pushed away or ignored as best they could.

When Hannah was finished, Grelle tilted her head to the side and, with her most imploring set of puppy eyes, begged, “Could I please have some honey, darling? I think it would make me feel _muuuch _better.” During one of her numerous contracts, Hannah had mastered the art of beekeeping, and she occasionally prepared jars of honey, which Grelle enjoyed in her tea.

“You baby,” Hannah laughed, nuzzling her affectionately before she went to fetch a jar and spoon.

“_Moi_?” Grelle asked ingenuously, placing a hand to her breast.

“Yes, you! You are positively shameless, Grelle Sutcliff,” the demon scolded, but she was unable to maintain any semblance of sternness when confronted with Grelle’s pouting lips and wistful eyes.

Seating herself at the table next to Grelle, Hannah offered her a spoonful of honey. “Just one,” she said, eliciting an eye roll and wry “Yes, mother,” from Grelle. However, the reaper’s sassiness deserted her when the honey met her tongue, suffusing her mouth with sweetness. If sunshine had a flavor, surely it would be comparable to that of honey, liquid gold.

Sweetness. How often Grelle craved it, and how seldom she tasted it, for it was hard indeed not to be bitter when it felt that the whole world was against her. But Hannah had reminded her what sweetness was; Grelle had tasted, and seen that it was good. Since Hannah had come into her life, Grelle laughed less raucously, but more genuinely. She smiled more readily. The harsh, ragged edges of her resentful anger were being smoothed away like the wind gentles the jagged peaks of a mountain.

Honey lingered on her lips, she could feel it. “Let me take care of that for you,” Hannah said, as if reading her thoughts, and she kissed Grelle. The reaper let out a tremulous sigh, savoring the simple pleasure of being _cared_ for.

“You spoil me rotten,” she whispered as they parted.

“No, little one,” Hannah countered, cradling Grelle’s bandaged hand in hers. “I spoil you sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Grelle had tasted, and seen that it was good": from Psalm 34:8: "Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in him."


End file.
